


my baby'll be alright

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Hitman!Geralt, M/M, Slow Build, Target!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt is called many things: White Wolf, hitman, assassin. He really don't care for labels, he just cares about money. That is... until he meets his newest target, Julian Alfred Pankratz.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	my baby'll be alright

**Author's Note:**

> this was requested on my tumblr and i couldnt say no
> 
> obviously this is an au (no magical powers, etc, just idiots) and i do feel the need to warn for mentions of violence but they will be brief descriptions, at most bc yes someone requests a hitman/target fic and im still too baby for too much violence... i just want angst & tension ma'am also yes geralt is a problematic bitch in this if that isnt ur cup of tea, just skip it <3
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt sat across from the burly man, waiting patiently. Finally, the man - George, he remembered idly - sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“I have a… job for you, White Wolf.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,” he stated plainly, blunt as ever.

George almost smiled, folding his hands together on top of the table. Geralt noticed all the rings adorning his finger, real gold and silver, no doubt.

The man was loaded, Yennefer had said, before pausing and adding, like an afterthought, he’s also part of the mafia, so, there’s that.

Yennefer never worried for his safety. All she cared about was getting paid, which he respected frankly.

“Yen - my partner - mentioned you were loaded,” he continued after a beat.

George smiled, sharp around the edges. “Partner?” he asked. “I didn’t think folks like… you had proper relationships. No offense.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched. That was not the first time he’d heard a similar thing. It was fair, perhaps, to think folks in his… profession didn’t have many interpersonal relationships, but it still rubbed him the wrong way.

“We are not together,” he said after a moment. “We work together. She finds me my clients.”

George nodded slowly. “How?” he asked curiously.

Geralt was also used to this. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, and steadied him with a hard look. “She’s good at reading people’s darkest desires,” he said.

Really, she was just a good hacker. But that was much less intimidating.

“Done?” he asked, raising both eyebrows.

George nodded, a bit dumb. The mafia must be lacking if this was one of their best.

“So, how much?” he asked, the most important question.

George blinked once before he smiled again, sly. “Name a price, and it is yours.”

Geralt hmmed, watching him. “$200,000.”

“You’re killing me here,” the man laughed, low and deep. “$100,000.”

Geralt almost smiled. “Deal,” he said. That was more than enough; 50k for him and 50k for Yennefer. She’d be pleased. Reaching down, he pulled a folder out of his bag and threw it on the table, opening to the first page. He tossed a pen with it. “Fill that out.”

George leaned over and peered at the paper. “This is all I have to do?”

“That, and pay me,” he replied plainly.

Shrugging, the man picked up the pen and started jotting down his answers - the name of the person and a few other small details. Geralt didn’t need much; as long as he had the basics, Yennefer could find everything else he needed within seconds.

“Do I pay now or - ” George asked, finishing up.

Geralt reached over and closed the folder. “Half now,” he said, “half once the job is finished.”

“You are a surprisingly fair man,” George commented. He had a bag of his own. He plopped the bag on the table and opened it, pulling out bundles of bills. “Here,” he said, handing them over.

Geralt sat back and counted them.

“Now what?” he asked, sounding almost… _nervous_.

Geralt leaned down and shoved the money in his bag. He found most people were nervous once things were confirmed, even the worst of humanity. “I’ll contact you when the job is done,” he explained, pushing the chair back and standing up. “Stay by your phone.”

George nodded quickly.

Grabbing his bag, Geralt swung it over his shoulder and headed for the door. He paused, though, turning. “I have one question.”

George looked up. “Yes?”

“Why not take care of this person yourself?” he asked, like he always did. Because he just liked knowing, frankly. Maybe it was cruel of him. “You’re not exactly an upstanding member of society.”

George grinned, a bit sharp. “Do you know why I want this man dead, White Wolf?”

Geralt shrugged. Truthfully, he didn’t care much for their reasons. Usually they were petty.

“He slept with my wife, the little shit,” he said. “I - ”

Geralt lifted a hand. “Not interested,” he said bluntly. Petty, like usual. Turning around, he opened the heavy, steel door and slipped out into the cool night air. Sighing, he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and headed to his apartment.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and paused when he heard - “Yen,” he greeted, turning around.

She was standing in the doorway to her own apartment, across the hall. “Did you get it?” she asked, straight to the point like always.

Geralt nodded and opened his bag, pulling out the folder. He handed it over and watched, silent and waiting, as Yennefer opened the folder and read over the information.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” she read off. “What a name.”

Geralt leaned against his door. “As if you have any room to speak, _Yennefer_.”

“Shut up if you want to keep your tongue,” she remarked, closing the folder.

Geralt shrugged. He hadn’t been intimidated by Yennefer in years. In the beginning, maybe, but now he knew her true character - she’d never hurt you unless she had a reason to profit.

Right now the last thing she’d want to do was hurt Geralt.

“When will you have the information for me?” he asked, like usual.

Yennefer hummed thoughtfully and tucked the folder under her arm. “Tomorrow night at the latest,” she answered, same as always.

“Good,” he said gruffly and turned around, opening his door. “Goodnight, Yen.”

Geralt sighed and reached over, turning on the lamp in his living room. His apartment was fairly big, but barely furnished. He didn’t need much, no matter what Yennefer said.

Yennefer was different - her apartment was the exact same in layout, but decorated beautifully. Geralt appreciated it, but didn’t see the point.

Walking over, he shrugged off his bag and set it on the floor near the couch.

That’s when he noticed the ball of black fur the couch. “Hey, Roach,” he greeted.

The cat purred, rolling over and showing her stomach. Geralt reached down and scratched her belly.

“Missed me?” he asked. She meowed happily. He smiled lightly and stood up. “Come on. Food.”

Roach meowed as she rolled back over and stood up, stretching her back. She hopped off the couch and followed him into the kitchen, where he quietly prepared them both food - cat food for Roach, predictably, and a sandwich for him.

He sat at the table with her.

“So, how was your day?” he asked. Roach purred loudly, eating. “Right,” he said after a moment, taking a bite of his sandwich and chewing slowly. “Want to hear about my day?”

Roach looked up for the briefest of seconds. Geralt scratched behind her ear.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he said. “Well. I got a new job, for starters.”

Roach didn’t listen, obviously, but Geralt enjoyed the act of it. Eventually, though, Roach finished eating and jumped off the table, running back into the living room.

Standing up, he put his dishes in the sink and sighed. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the sink full of dirty dishes.

_You’re heartless!_

_A monster!_

_How could you?_

Shaking his head, Geralt pushed the memories of Renfri out of his head. It’d been years, but somehow her words - some of them, at least - still stuck with him, even now.

She’d called him a monster all those years ago, and look where he’d ended up. Maybe she’d been right. Maybe she’d been psychic, even. Roach meowed from the living room, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned and left the kitchen, turning the light off.

“Goodnight, Roach,” he called as he walked to his room.

Roach meowed again and he smiled, closing the door.

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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